Angel in Distress
by only.a.small.fish
Summary: Draco Malfoy, who smiled and moved like smokey water, whispering out of the grasp of everything, but still intense and smooth. Draco Malfoy, who stole more than just Harry's breath in that moment.


Glass doors swung open, a bell rang out through the night. Golden light spilled from every shop window and mingled with the multicolored glow of car headlights. An echo coursed through his mind and caused him to stop in his tracks.

Harry Potter stared in disbelief at the young blonde cashier, waving cheerfully after a satisfied customer and turning quickly to the next one. The blonde cashier with a pale, pointed face; looking so different from how he remembers. The cashier who laughs as he rings a box through the scanner and compliments the woman's scarf.

It couldn't possibly be.

It was.

Draco Malfoy looked up from the counter, brushing stray hairs from his line of vision. He was so relaxed, so at ease. Something Harry had never gotten the chance to witness. He was dashing and cool, lax and smartly dressed. He leant into his left leg, the bones of his hip protruding to the side smoothly and calmly.

Draco's hands, still as nimble as spiders, plucked products from carts. They transferred each item with care and deliberation into the thin plastic casing of the shopping bags. The dark mark that had resided on his forearm was replaced by a dragon, bold and wonderful. The shape of the skull was still present, but trapped underneath the new beauty that had enveloped it, swallowed by swirling flames of new life.

His hair was longer now, the slick, professional style lost seemingly long ago with the wind. Choppy and elegant, it fell in soft waves about his neck and framed his face with dangerous serenity. Cheekbones of demanding sharpness were softened by the gentle smile that graced his thin lips, twisting them upwards to enchant.

In the industrial light of the store, he glowed like a disheveled angel of demure grace. Harry was captivated by his movements, his joints, his breath.

The door opened again and a young woman exited, waving behind her. A sweet sound followed her for only a moment until the door was shut, but it was more than a taste of ecstasy.

"Thank you! Have a nice evening!"

Draco Malfoy, who smiled and moved like smokey water, whispering out of the grasp of everything, but still intense and smooth. Draco Malfoy, who carded long digits through fluffy hair that settled like a new dawn. Draco Malfoy, who stole more than just Harry's breath in that moment.

He wanted to go in. To buy something. To say something. But he couldn't.

He just couldn't.

So instead he simply stood there. He had no idea for how long. Cars streaked past his back, tires rolling over snow tinged pink by the city's night colours. People laughed, people talked, people sighed and all of it swallowed him.

Snowflakes dusted his dark hair to lace and Baby's Breath, whispering promises of dreams. He blinked slowly, his eyes tired and soft, becoming sore with gazing.

Draco seemed to hear something behind him, for he looked over his shoulder. A young woman approached him, dressed in the same uniform, placing her hand on his arm and speaking to him quickly. He nodded, his neck moving so smoothly it was almost to much for Harry to bear. The woman took his place behind the cashier and he disappeared from Harry's view.

It was as if something had gone missing from his heart. He refused to move, hardly even shifting when someone bumped into him. His hands were cold, colder than his nose. His glasses were fogged around the edges and his mind was filling with an emotion Harry had long since felt.

"Harry?"

His body became rigid, an extension of the ice on which he stood. His head slowly turned, he was terrified within his chest. The angel had spoken, he was so close.

Draco was staring at Harry in shock when their eyes met. A white scarf flung loosely around his neck served as the cork for his black corduroy bottle of a body. Winter air tickled his hair upwards and it danced in the city lights, shimmering like starlight. It was unfair, how beautiful and innocently astonished this angel looked. Harry felt his chest hitch and his mind blank, but it wasn't because of the sight that mesmerized his eyes.

It was because Draco said his name.

His first name.

The one Ginny had whispered into his ear, the one Sirius had said so fondly but Snape would never dare to utter. It was how Ron had teased him, how Hermione had reassured him. It was the one Voldemort had screamed out in rage and yet, also the one Dumbledore had murmured as he drank to his death.

Harry shuddered so suddenly it was as if a gale had swept through his body, leaving him breathless. All because of a word.

"Hullo..." Harry said quietly, trying to hide his frightened face in the folds of his black scarf. "...Draco."

"Hello," Draco replied awkwardly. He had noticed the tremor that shook Harry and he felt something strange stir inside him. Concern.

"Harry?" he said tentatively, stepping forward; the first of many steps into uncharted territory. "Are you alright?"

It felt strange for Draco to be saying those words, all together. It felt odd and new to be addressing Harry in such a way, to be speaking to his once sworn enemy with emotions other than malice and hatred. He liked it.

Harry couldn't find his voice. He had expended all that he could on those two words of greeting and now Draco was asking him a question. A question of concern that Harry wasn't sure how to answer, even if he knew how to speak, but he didn't need to.

"Don't you need to be somewhere?" Draco asked. Harry shook his head. There was nowhere for him to be, or anywhere he was wanted. Hermione and Ron were in Cuba with their daughter, Rose; the other Weasleys were in Romania or off in their own private lives. Ginny didn't want to see him. She hadn't since they'd broken up and she was spending Christmas with Dean, whom she'd reunited with.

He was alone for Christmas, the first one in many years. Although Christmas was a dreary time at the Dursley's, he'd gotten used to being with the Weasleys and now that he wasn't, he felt void and lonely.

A young couple walked past them, arm in arm and laughing joyfully. The young woman had her arm slung through a decorated Christmas wreath and was retelling a story about something that had surely happened to her during the day. The wreath sparked something in Harry's mind and it translated to his mouth before he could do anything to stop it.

"It's nearly Christmas," he said suddenly. Draco looked slightly taken aback for a moment, before nodding his head hesitantly.

"Yes..." he said slowly. Harry stared at him in embarrassment, realizing that his hands had begun to sweat. They stood in silence for a long moment, both confused and thinking frantically of what to say next. Finally, Draco couldn't take it anymore.

"Oh, for goodness sake, come on. I've got to get home and I can't just leave you here." He shoved his hands into the deep pockets of his coat and began trudging off through the snow. Harry stared blankly at him, watching his retreating back while rooted to the spot. When Draco realized that Harry wasn't following him, he turned and jerked his head.

"Well? Are you coming or not?"

"What?" Harry blinked in surprise. "Oh! Yes!" he said with far too much excitement. Draco raised a skeptical eyebrow but said nothing as Harry joined him at his side.

They didn't exchange any words on their walk until Harry had been confused when they didn't apparate directly to Malfoy Manor. He asked Draco about this.

"I haven't been at home since the war," Draco replied dutifully. Harry was slightly surprised at how openly he answered. This was most certainly not the same Draco Malfoy he had known four years ago.

"There were angry wizards banging on our door and yelling threats at us nearly every day," he said sullenly. "Mother and Father didn't do anything to stop them besides casting a shielding charm to protect us from the curses. I couldn't stay there. I needed to leave my past behind and start new, to accept what I had done and move on."

Harry looked down at his angel, his beautiful face now painted so sadly. Without thinking, he placed a hand on Draco's shoulder and squeezed gently. Draco jumped and stared down at Harry's hand, but didn't do anything to move it.

It turned out that Draco had been living in a small, ramshackle house tucked away in a quiet neighborhood. There was a tall oak tree leaning over the roof of the porch, its gnarly branches covered with freshly fallen snow, glistening in the orange glow of the streetlight. The wooden steps sagged down in the center from overuse and the small porch was cluttered with boxes and various other things, including a rusty old bicycle and what appeared to be a broken television.

Draco pulled a fluffy strand of red yarn from his pocket, a small silver key swinging into the air. He slipped the key into the lock hidden under the tarnished doorknob and twisted it with a clunk. The peeling red door creaked as they entered, Draco stepping sideways so that Harry could enter and so that he could switch on the light, the singular bulb casting a weak yellow glow over the hall.

"You can hang your coat there," Draco said, pointing to a row of wooden pegs sticking out of the cracking plaster wall. Harry stepped over a pile of boots and shoes to hook his coat over the peg as instructed, placing it next to the one Draco had casually thrown.

He followed Draco into his sitting room, a cozy little space full of books, papers, movie discs and a large television that sat opposite a squashy tweed sofa that took up the majority of the room.

"You can sit down, I'll get us some tea," Draco said, motioning to the obviously loved piece of furniture. Harry obliged and seated himself slowly and discovered that the cushions were swallowing him pleasantly. Draco returned after a few minutes, carrying two mismatched steaming mugs of tea. He handed a soft blue cup to Harry and sat down next to him, cradling a thick, burgundy ceramic one.

"Aren't you with Weasley and Granger?" Draco asked, taking a sip from his mug. Harry noticed that he held it with two hands, shuffling the sleeves of his sweater up to cover everything except his fingers which poked out like tiny pink stubs. He shook his head in response.

"No, they're on holiday."

Draco swallowed his tea and nodded. "Ah. They're married right?"

"Yes, three years ago." Harry looked down into his cup. He looked over at Draco who was watching the snow fall past the window, playing with his soft pink lip between his teeth. The lights were dim, just a small lamp and the faint glare of the kitchen filtering around the corner. The ambiance dulled the harshness of every color in the room, turning everything a soft shade of golden yellow.

"Why are you doing this?" Harry asked suddenly. Draco turned to him, sliding the end of his thumb around the lip of the mug.

"Doing what?"

Harry found himself frustrated, both with Draco and his own mind. "This!" he exclaimed. "Bring me back here, making me tea. Being nice!"

Draco bit his lip again. "You're still used to the old me," he said quietly. Harry couldn't think of anything else to do but nod. Draco sighed and took a deep breath.

"The first thing I want to say is: I'm sorry," he began. "I treated you and your friends like shit and I thought it was funny. I was racist, sexist and awful about everything. My priorities were held in pleasing my father and making your life miserable, both things that had a negative effect on me. I know it's too late to be apologising, and I know I can't take back anything I said or did, but I need you to know that I truly am sorry."

Harry stared at him in disbelief, but he wasn't finished.

"After I left home and found this place, I realized that what my entire life had consisted of: hurting you and making my father happy, were doing nothing for me. I forgot what it felt like when your pain gave me satisfaction, I forgot what it was like when I felt proud of my father's praise. I spent a lot of time thinking and I've discovered that all I really wanted was freedom.

"My parents were loving, but I was confined by their rules and pure-blood values. I thought that by making my father happy, he would let me make my own choices, allow me to be independent. But it was the very opposite. The more successful I became, the tighter they pulled me in. I don't think I understood how trapped I was until I met you. Someone who I could abuse and toss around, throwing my anger at with malice and trickery. It was a sort of vent for an anger I didn't know I had. When I think back on all the things I said to you, to Granger and Weasley...all the horrible things...I feel so awful and disgusting it hurts."

Harry realized with shock that Draco was crying now, tears welling up in his steely grey eyes that seemed softened by his sadness. Harry ached to reach out and hug the angel, but his arms wouldn't move.

"I lied before," Draco said, sniffling. "About leaving home."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, surprised at the sudden change of subject.

"I didn't leave. I was kicked out."

"What?" Harry was aghast. "Why?"

Draco let out a weak, tearful laugh. "Isn't it obvious? I'm homosexual. I'm gay Harry."

Harry nearly dropped his mug. He stared at Draco in wild astonishment and shock. Draco Malfoy, the beautiful, deceitful, terribly mistreated angel, was gay. Gay and confessing out loud to Harry Potter.

"I understand if you're disgusted," Draco said, his voice dreadfully sad. "If you'd like to shout at me, or punch me, I suggest you get it over with."

Harry felt horrified to hear the words coming from Draco's mouth. How could he possibly think, let alone expect such treatment and he wasn't about to let that continue.

"How dare you!" he said loudly, setting down his undrunk tea onto the glass coffee table in front of them with a bang. Draco winced.

"Why would you let yourself be treated like that? Why would you expect anyone to treat you like that?" he demanded. Draco gave him a very confused and slightly scared look in response.

"But...they're my parents..." he said quietly.

"Fuck your parents!" Harry exploded. "Fuck them and anyone else who ever said anything was wrong with you." He reached forward suddenly and pulled Draco into a tight embrace, startling him violently.

"H-Harry!" he exclaimed, still clutching the half-full mug.

"I forgive you and I'll forget everything you ever said if you promise me never to think of yourself as disgusting," Harry said, keeping his arms locked around his quivering angel.

"Harry-" Draco began, but Harry cut him off.

"Promise me," he repeated. Draco sighed and pressed his forehead onto Harry's shoulder.

"I promise."

Harry let out a sigh of relief he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He fell back from Draco who was staring at him with wide eyes.

Of all the times Harry had thought Draco to be beautiful, none of them amounted to this one. Although his eyes were red and puffy from crying, Harry had never seen them shimmering so wonderfully. They were like twin diamonds, set in a pristine visage of vulnerability and raw, utter beauty. Harry felt himself become breathless as memories of his school days came flooding back into his mind.

Memories of feeling anger towards himself for loving someone he knew he shouldn't. Memories of screaming inside himself because of another abnormality he never wanted to add to the list. Memories of tears and soft smiles dashed by sneering lips he longed so dearly to touch.

"May...May I kiss you?" Harry asked nervously. Draco was in the process of putting his mug onto the coffee table, which he promptly dropped. It landed with a crash next to Harry's neglected one as Draco turned his head to blink in a daze of shock.

"What?" he breathed, almost to scared to know the answer.

"May I kiss you?" Harry asked again, this time with curiously more confidence. To his great surprise, Draco nodded, slowly.

He lifted a shaking hand to clasp Draco's smooth cheek, caressing it gently with his thumb. Draco's eyelashes fluttered over eyes wide enough to engulf him as he inched their faces closer together. Their breaths mingled for only a moment before the angel took flighg and Draco swallowed it, not bothering to wait for Harry.

Their lips fit like puzzle pieces that had never been outside of their box, melting together like chocolate. Draco 'lifted his hands to stroke Harry's face, cupping it, memorizing it. He pushed Harry downwards, pressing his body into him as they continued to kiss. Calloused fingers danced through Draco's hair, petting it and feeling it slither softly between his digits. Harry tilted his head to the side, sliding his hand down the back of Draco's neck gently, stroking the soft, pale skin.

He then pushed Draco off quickly at the sudden feel of fur tickling his face. His eyes met small, beady black ones belonging to a furry grey ferret.

"Dusty!" Draco exclaimed, lifting the long creature off Harry quickly. Harry sat up, eyeing the animal curiously.

"A ferret? I thought you hated ferrets."

Draco laughed. "I do." He placed 'Dusty down on the floor and watched him scamper off into the kitchen.

"But this one has sort of grown on me."


End file.
